Just another day in New York
by SallyCarefree
Summary: After serving his time, Neal has explored the world. But now, he's back in town. Read about a day in his and Peter's life, with the usual bantering, trust issues, crime solving and lots of friendship, hugs including. Neal/Peter centric. El's in, too. Since some of you asked for a follow-up to Calling Home - here you are. But this story is complete on its own
1. In the morning

AN: This story hasn't been beta-ed. I've re-read it several times, and used 2 different grammar/spelling checking tools. But still, since I'm not a native speaker there will be some errors left, waiting for you to find them. I do apologize sincerely beforehand for any of those.

Matter of personal interest: I'm looking for a beta for my next story which will be no fluff at all. Any native speaking volunteer interested?

Anyways, I'd like to utter this WARNING: if you feel offended by poor spelling and grammar, please do not continue to read and enjoy your day without getting annoyed by this story.

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Peter Burke was early. Literally speaking, he wasn't early, but actually it was too early for this partner. The FBI agent wasn't surprised. Having worked with Neal Caffrey for 4 years, this has become a kind of ritual…

Burke would want to make the most of the day to solve a new crime. Therefore, he would pick up the consultant at his apartment early in the morning, and they would drive to the office or wherever they had to start the investigation.

Only, the younger man wouldn't be ready at the agreed time. He would be sitting in his dressing gown at the breakfast table and sip some fancy Italian roast or nibble at a croissant. Every decent person would show at least some remorse and hurry up to get dressed. But of course, not Neal Caffrey. He would act as if he hadn't expected his guest, offer some coffee and start chatting.

Finally, he would rise calmly and vanish into his bathroom. It would take at least another half an hour until he was dressed and styled to meet his own high expectations. Meanwhile, the FBI agent would read the newspaper, check emails on his phone, or search the apartment for anything suspicious.

At some point, the suave ex-con would stand in the door, juggle with his hat and ask slightly irritated, "It's getting late. Are you ready to leave or should I ask June for more coffee?" Now, Peter would roll his eyes and express his annoyance.

He had tried to come half an hour after the agreed pick up time. Same course of events. With the side effect that they'd lost 30 more valuable minutes. After all, Peter has accepted this as a standard operating procedure. Truth to be told, it wasn't an ordeal to enjoy a first class breakfast.

Anyways, this was the first time he came to pick up Neal after the ex-criminal had returned to New York to work as a free consultant for the FBY. Free – in the literal meaning, no anklet, no radius, no constant threat of prison.

The ex-con was working for the White Collar division whenever his services were requested. He wasn't a fulltime employee but worked freelance. He's chosen to skip the boring mortgage frauds, but would hurl himself into the interesting cases full of enthusiasm. That way, he had more time to pursue other projects which was ok for Peter and his team - unless those projects didn't involve any criminal actions.

While the agent was sitting on the roof-top terrace and poured coffee, he was amused. "Mmh. That's good. Everything's back to normal. I've to admit I'd missed this coffee, you, this view – all of it."

The cocky C.I. threw him a grinning look. "Tell me about it!"

"Hurry up Caffrey, I can't work overtime today. It's my anniversary, but probably you know that already. This evening belongs to El and me."

"Any plans yet, or do you need my advice?"

"All clear. I have booked a guided art tour through Uptown galleries with champagne, canapés and all that goes with it."

"She'll love it. And I know how much you _enjoy_art tours yourself. Very selfless and touching indeed."

Neal needed his usual time to get ready. Peter had seen some new paintings when he had entered the apartment. He used the time to check on those. Obviously, the ex-forger had started to copy masterpieces again. The paintings were not in the usual impressionism style which was Caffrey's trademark, and they were far from a Rafael. But still, they looked decidedly precious.

His thoughts were interrupted when the consultant called from the door. "Come on, let's start solving some cases. It isn't me who wants to get home early. Before I forget … here's a little gift for El. It's sort of compensation to put up with you for 16 years and counting." It was a nicely wrapped packet. From its shape one could guess it contained a painting.

"I'll give it to her tonight. Probably, it's something extraordinary which makes my own present look cheesy. But never mind. She's going to love it. Nothing else matters. "


	2. During the day

Thanks to Neal's help they were able to solve the case without delay. He was able to work out the scheme a couple of hedge fund trustees had set up to scam a fortune. The crooks have been acting very carefully and so far the FBI hasn't been able to prove their participation in the crime. The CI took a look at the documents, compared signatures, and found evidence that enabled them to get a search warrant. Searching the houses of the suspects procured the hard evidence to charge them with embezzlement and bond forgery.

Neal loved to solve the puzzle, and he did so with his usual nonchalance. Of course, he had to complain about the minor quality of the forged bonds – in contrast to the high quality he had delivered himself when he had been still in the trade. These comments evoked scoffing (Jones), annoyed moaning (Diana) and telling-off (Peter).

Nevertheless, once Caffrey had made the breakthrough the team followed the lead. Jones gathered missing data in the FBI computer system, Diana interviewed the hedge fund manager, and Peter convinced the judge to issue the search warrant without further delay. Burke headed the operation and coordinated agents and consultant. Wrapping up the case was a team effort and all of them enjoyed the work.

Jones was the first one to leave the office since he had a date with a woman he'd met at the gym. He turned down Neal's offer to help choosing the right outfit, and wasn't grateful at all for the numerous dating tips. Still, both men discussed the matter of selecting the right restaurant for a date and pros and cons of ending the first date in a bar.

Diana showed some gratitude for the truffle risotto recipe she was writing down from Neal's dictation. She planned to cook it the following weekend. The agent had started seeing Christie again during the last month, and her ex-girlfriend had always been raving about Neal's risotto. He even gave directions where to find the best truffles and Parmesan cheese.

Peter watched amused how his consultant charmed his way through the office. He decided to finalize the case report tomorrow and call it a day. "Neal, do you need a lift? I'm going home."

"No thanks, I'm going to write the case report before I leave."

"Wonders will never cease! I'm impressed." Peter grabbed his briefcase and coat. When he walked through the bullpen, he watched the new probie, a stunning long-legged blonde, approaching Neal with a stack of forms. Apparently, Neal was expecting some help with the dull task. The senior agent smiled.

He could remember quite well how Neal was writing his reports: he flirted with the agent and addresses compliments on her, entertained her with funny stories and brought her fancy coffee. The girl would do all the writing and copying, but in the end she'd be grateful for being able to assist the great Neal Caffrey, and go home with a sense of delight.


	3. In the evening

So far, it has been a lovely evening. Even Peter had enjoyed most of the art tour and El was delighted. Their art guide was entertaining and the food healthy and not too fancy.

Now, they've reached the last stop of the tour. The gallery showed an exhibition of a trendy new Italian artist, named Nickie Ferrante. The pieces of art were unusually intense, huge and displayed a strange, but unique style. The little price tags showed that the salary of an FBI agent wouldn't provide sufficient means to purchase one.

The fees an FBI consultant got paid were even less suitable to buy one of those. Peter's face fell. "Oh no, El. This can't be true. He can't be that stupid."

Elizabeth was instantly alarmed when she saw her husband's pale face and shocked eyes. "Those paintings are beautiful. What's the problem with them?"

"It's Neal. Again. I've seen a couple of paintings like these in his studio today."

"Are you sure? This artist has a certain name among art collectors, but he's not nearly as famous as Neal's usual templates. Maybe, his paintings bear just a faint resemblance to the original Ferrante pieces."

Peter was devastated. "No. He has either stolen or forged them. That's beyond all doubt. Why would he do that?"

His head was reeling. There were so many thoughts at once. _Did Neal forge the art works? Could he send his friend back to prison? Will he sell the paintings? Could he NOT send his friend back to prison? Who was going to fence them? Cause you're a con! It's who you are, and it's all you'll ever be. Neal has changed. His life here has a meaning. He wouldn't risk losing it. Wouldn't he?_

The couple wasn't in the mood for further art lectures and left.

When they've reached home, Peter broke the silence. "El, I'm an FBI agent. It's not just a job. You know that. It's what I am. I believe in justice, in right and wrong. If Neal did this I can't ignore this, let him get out scot-free. Just because he is my friend I can't turn a blind eye to his crimes."

His wife hugged him and tried to give some comfort. She has known him long enough to understand the inner conflict.

"But if I arrest him, and he has to stand trial, he will go to prison for good. I can't do this to him. He's my friend. I can't send him back in. With his history as an FBI snitch, he wouldn't make it a month before he got killed – or worse."

He came to a conclusion. "I have to talk to him. First thing tomorrow morning, I will confront him and work out how to solve this mess. Perhaps, he hasn't sold any paintings yet. In that case, it wouldn't be a crime at all, and I can try to talk some sense into him."

"Peter Burke, you're a good man. You've made the right the decision 16 years ago when you married me, and you will make the right decision tomorrow morning, after considering all facts and listening to your friend."

A thought crossed his mind. "This might not be the perfect time, but still … Our friend has asked me to give you this." He handed her the parcel.

El was overwhelmed by the unwrapped the gift. "This is awesome. I love it. I really do. Those colors! And it's so strong and warm at the same time. So comforting, but also thrilling."

Peter's reaction was less enthusiastic. "I don't believe this. That's outrageous. How can he send a forged painting to my wife? If that's his idea of fun I don't get it." Indeed, the painting bore a striking resemblance to the ones they had seen an hour ago at the Nickie Ferrante exhibition. Without a doubt, this work of art was a Ferrante.

"Sorry hon, I know it's our anniversary. But this can't wait until tomorrow. I'm driving over and confront him. He'd better have a good explanation."

Elizabeth had a feeling that there was more behind this painting, and she decided to join her husband. Besides being curious, she wanted to ensure that Peter didn't do something stupid. He was a controlled person, but once his tolerance threshold has been reached he would explode. If he'd felt betrayed he would lash out.


	4. Into the night

Neal had prepared himself for a relaxing evening at home, alone. Therefore, he was surprised when Peter Burke stormed into his apartment, followed by his wife.

"Peter, nice to see you. You look upset. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Don't give me that crap. You know exactly why I'm here. You did this on purpose. Have you been enjoying the thought about my wife unwrapping the painting?"

Neal was genuinely confused. "What's wrong with the painting? Don't you like it? You don't have to hang it up; I won't take offence. I won't even sulk. Promise!"

"Stop it! This is a forgery. Or even worse, you stole it from the gallery. What do you expect me to do? Tell me! Because, I really don't know what to do now."

"Hon, shut up." Elizabeth was kneeling in front of the paintings leaning against the wall. All of them Nickie Ferrantes.

She was thrilled and couldn't avert her eyes. "Neal, those are amazing. Why didn't you send those to the exhibition? They are incredibly intense. The exhibits are great, no objection. But nothing compared to these pieces of art."

"No, these are way too personal. You know, it's private stuff. That would be like putting up your diary for display in a public place."

"Elizabeth, what are you talking about?" For once, the FBI agent couldn't make any sense out of his wife's words.

"Oh come on, you have to recognize this. Look at this one. That's you and Neal somewhere in prison. There's this mixture of hope and desperation."

Neal was pleased. "Excellent observation skills! That was 4 years back when I tried to convince Peter to sign the consulting deal. I'm glad you can make it out. It's time, place and emotion. Everything that gives art a meaning. Of course, our FBI agent over here can see these only in baseball."

The FBI agent in question stared at the picture. "There is an orange sparkler and a greyish streak behind black stripes. I'm the greyish streak? You see me as a greyish streak? But Nickie Ferrante is an Italian artist, and you, on the other side, are Neal Caffrey." He had problems to digest the information.

The ex-criminal grinned boldly and opened his arms in a proud gesture. "Nickie Ferrante is my nom de plume..."

The agent corrected him resignedly. "Alias."

"OK, let's agree on alias. Anyways, I used it in the beginning of my career when I travelled round the Riviera and lived the life of an aspiring artist."

"Probably to con a naive collector into buying worthless stuff or steal the jewelry of a rich spouse!"

"You don't expect me to confess any alleged crimes? It was an innocent time back then. The alias wasn't really holding up. Mozzie got mad when I told him about it. But I was very young and brazen; I'll have to say in my defense."

"Nickie Ferrante had never made it to your file. Otherwise, I would have recognized it. It didn't ring a bell."

"It didn't ring a bell? Peter, your general knowledge of great American classics is really scary – unless baseball is concerned." Neal was sipping his wine. He made a mental note to give his friend a DVD movie box for the next birthday as educational material. But probably, he was fighting a lost cause. Still, it would be nice to spend a cozy Sunday afternoon with Peter and El watching some old Hollywood flicks.

Peter Burke was relieved to hear that the ex-forger hasn't slipped back to his criminal ways. He wasn't exactly the talkative type who expressed his feelings eloquently. Therefore, he simply turned towards his partner and engulfed him in a big hug. For a couple of moments, Neal was frozen in surprise. But then, he hugged Peter right back.

Peter took a deep breath when he finally ended the embrace, and gave Neal a pat on the shoulder. "I could do with some of this" - he pointed towards the bottle with red wine, "Before you go ahead. I take it you don't have plain beer in your fridge."

Neal fetched two more glasses and poured wine for his guests. "But Peter, even I wouldn't be so daring to send a forged painting to an FBI agent. That would be reckless stupidity. I'm adventurous but not stupid." He chuckled. "Thinking about it, maybe I have crossed the fine line between daring and stupid once or twice in my life."

They sat down to drink wine and talk. Neal confided to his friends how he had started to paint in order to keep himself busy after he had served his time and toured Europe. Eventually, he showed the paintings to a friend working in art business, and she was impressed and asked to put some of them up for sale. By the time he had returned from Dubai, he had already gained some fame. Consequently, he had agreed to set up the exhibition in the Uptown gallery.

The earnings from the sales were a welcome supplement to the consulting fees the FBI paid. Furthermore, it was legit, but still enough mystery involved keeping him interested.

While they were sitting and chatting, Peter Burke knew for sure that he couldn't have sent his friend to prison. He was extremely glad that he hasn't been forced to decide between his job and his friend. He loved his job. But he would have decided for his friend.

Slightly dizzy from the wine, he mused whether this made him a bad agent or rather a good friend. By all means, working together with Caffrey had changed both of them. He was far apart from being the archeologist and Neil was no longer a brazen criminal. By all means, it was a change for the better.

They opened another bottle of wine. It was almost midnight, and Neal raised a toast to celebrate the last minutes of his friends' anniversary. He was glad he'd found a home and friends who cared for him.

El expressed her sincere thanks for the extraordinary gift. "I'm really glad you didn't forge it. I wouldn't have returned it to rot in some evidence storage facility. I really, really love it. Thanks Neal."

Finally, the spontaneous party came to an end. The couple was heading towards the taxi that Peter had called earlier on. They had shared too much of the excellent Burgundy to drive a car on their own.

It was dark outside, and Neal was standing at the front door. He smiled and called for El.

"Good night Elizabeth!"

"Good night Neal!"

"Good night Peter!"

"Good night Neal!"

Peter complained, but with a faint smile on his face. "Can we go home now, El, or do we have to wait for another rehearsal of _The Waltons_?


End file.
